


That Which Was Forgotten

by nochick_fics



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 23:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7865659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nochick_fics/pseuds/nochick_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy pays a late night visit to Maes and Gracia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Which Was Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LiveJournal on 12/10/11. 

“Maes?”  
   
_“… hanzoffmdaughter...”_  
   
“Maes, honey, wake up.”  
   
The sound of Gracia’s voice, groggy with exhaustion and yet full of amusement, cut through the haze of Maes’ dream, wherein he was gleefully choking the life out of a young thug who had dared to look upon his pride and joy, his darling Elysia.  Maes pried open his eyes, squinting although it was dark in the bedroom, and waited for the reality of waking to set in: Elysia was still young, still snug in her bed, and Gracia was beside him, nudging him on the shoulder in a manner that would have earned anyone else a few choice words for doing so in the middle of the night.   
   
“What’s wrong?” he croaked, fumbling on the nightstand for his glasses.  “Is it Elysia?  Is she okay?”  
   
“She’s fine,” Gracia said.  “There’s someone at the door.”  
   
Before Maes could ask her to repeat herself, and before it registered in his tired mind that her tone indicated she knew exactly who that someone was, the light but persistent sound of knocking hit his ears, jolting him fully awake.   
   
There was only one person in the world who would come calling at that hour.  
   
“I’ll start the coffee,” Gracia murmured, climbing out of the bed and slipping on a robe.  
   
“Thank you, honey.”  Maes smiled as warm, soft lips pressed briefly against his forehead and then he rolled out of the bed.  After contemplating a robe and opting not to bother--his pajamas were insanely patterned but otherwise decent--he made his way through the living room and opened the front door to his uninvited guest just as another round of knocking began.  
   
“Where’s your car?” he asked, peering outside and noting the lack of transportation.  
   
Roy lowered his hand and offered his friend a lopsided smile.   
   
“Back at the bar,” he slurred, trudging past Maes into the house.  “Can’t find my keys.”  
   
“Are you sure you didn’t drink those, too?”  
   
“Huh?”  
   
“Nothing.  Come on.”  After closing the door, Maes moved behind Roy, placed his hands on the man’s shoulders, and directed him towards the couch which had always served as a makeshift bed during nights such as these, nights when Roy wasn’t nearly sober enough to be left to his own devices.  
   
He had lost track of when the impromptu visits began, when Roy would simply show up without warning, inebriated and occasionally forlorn, and crash on the couch until morning, whereupon he would awake to being poked and prodded by Elysia, eat a rare home-cooked meal, apologize profusely for the inconvenience, and take his leave.  Such seemingly uncharacteristic events demonstrated a side of Roy reserved solely for Maes--and Gracia and Elysia by association--and Maes did not have the heart to turn him away, even if it meant sacrificing much-needed sleep, among other nighttime activities.  Besides, he knew full well the sort of things that plagued Roy; if the random bender was the worst way he chose to deal with them, Maes would never dream of denying him that.   
   
Gracia arrived with a steaming cup of coffee as well as a blanket and a pillow before wishing Roy a good night and disappearing into the bedroom.  Roy cradled the cup in his hands and sipped the hot liquid while Maes set about untying his shoes.   
   
“She’s a good woman, Hughes.”  
   
“Far better than I deserve,” Maes agreed.  “You really ought to find someone for yourself, you know. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel the need to wander around town drunk off your ass.”  
   
Roy shook his head and took another drink.  “Relationships are too much trouble.”  
   
While Maes was tempted to point out the amount of trouble inherent with traipsing about at all hours of the night, he decided against it.  “It just takes the right person,” he said instead, sliding off Roy’s shoes and setting them on the floor.  
   
“I _had_ the right person once.”  
   
The statement caught Maes off guard like a sudden and brutal blow and he paused, gazing at Roy’s black-socked feet but not quite seeing them.  His jaws clenched, as if biting back the memories of a life lived once upon a time, a life that he had laid to rest ages back in favor of his present happiness.  
   
He had no idea why Roy had chosen tonight to broach a subject that neither man had dared to speak of in well over a decade…  
   
“Roy--”  
   
“Thanks for the coffee.”   
   
… and apparently he wasn’t going to find out.    
   
Roy shoved the half-empty cup in Maes’ face, practically forcing him to take it.  He then swung his legs onto the couch and leaned his head back against the pillow, closing his eyes and sighing deeply.  Maes rose to his feet and stared down at him, a mixture of guilt and affection swelling in his chest, debating a barrage of things best left unspoken.  After a moment, he cocooned him in a blanket decorated with stars and rainbows and all other sickeningly adorable things which were better suited for little girls than grown men, and he swept a lock of dark hair away from Roy’s brow, something he hadn’t done in years.  
   
“Goodnight,” he whispered.  
   
Maes took the cup into the kitchen and then returned to the warmth and comfort of his own bed where Gracia was waiting for him with open arms.  
   
“Is he alright?” she asked, pulling him close.  
   
“He’ll be fine,” he reassured her.  He doubted the validity of his words but saw no need to worry her.  Besides, to do so would very likely invite a conversation that he was not quite ready to have. Maybe one day, when he was willing to dredge up the past and relive that particular chapter of his life. But no, not yet.  And so until then, he would tuck that little secret back into the recesses of his mind and take it with him.   
   
To the grave, as it would turn out.  
   
Maes removed his glasses and burrowed his face into Gracia’s hair, breathing in her scent.  Eventually sleep stole over him and he dozed peacefully, having long since forgotten the significance of this particular night when, a lifetime ago, two young men first took their friendship to a far more intimate level.


End file.
